Long Hard Nights
by Rottweiler7692
Summary: Sam has a vision-mare and Dean comforts him.


Title: Long Hard Nights

Author: Rottweiler7692

Rating: K 

Type: Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural

Summary: Sam has a vision-mare. Dean does what he needs to.

Notes: I've been having trouble writing lately and this is the first fic I've finished for a long time. I have a million other fics that I haven't been able to complete. So I'd extremely appreciate any reviews and kind words. This is the best I can do at the moment but I might make this a little better later.

This wasn't beta'd so I apologize for any mistakes.

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Dean shifted in his bed, feeling for the cold, hard metal of his knife under his pillow. Gripping the handle, he paused, listening for the sound that woke him up. There it was again. 

Craning his neck to see his brother over the distance separating his own bed and Sam's, he made out his brother tossing and turning like a mad man. Dean groaned. Either another bad dream or a vision. Could be either; the symptoms were the same. Tossing and turning in his sleep, moaning, sometimes crying out or talking, and waking up Dean.

Dean sighed deeply as he squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand between the beds. It was turned towards Sam. Dean groaned aloud. How many times had he told Sam to keep it faced in the middle so they both could see? It was "seeable" before he'd fallen asleep; Sam must've turned it around so he could watch the clock when he couldn't sleep. Dean didn't understand why he did that. If he watched the clock, of course he wouldn't fall asleep. He'd just worry about the next day. Whatever.

Now Dean had to get up and either turn the clock back around or turn on the light so he could see the dial of his watch. Or he could just lie and wonder how long he'd slept and how much longer they had to get on the road again. He couldn't wait to get out of this town. Their job here was done; the bruises were proof. Twisting his watch toward the silvery moonlight streaming through the windows, he could just barely make out the hands' positions. It was only 12:30. It'd barely been an hour.

Now satisfied but not pleased, Dean turned his attention back to his slumbering brother. Sam moaned and turned his head from side to side violently, as if trying to escape from something.

Had it been day, Dean would have found the sight funny because each time Sam tossed his head, his hair would fly into his face. It was a comical sight. Kind of reminded Dean of a dog, but of course he would never tell that to Sam… well, maybe when he was awake and the dreams had long been chased away by the morning light.

Dean slowly sat up, wincing as his movement pulled at sore muscles. Being thrown against the wall was not fun, no matter what werewolves might think.

Sam suddenly bucked, screaming, "Deeean!" Ignoring his own injuries, Dean bolted out of his bed… well more like fell clumsily with a loud _thump_. His legs had become tangled in the blackest and in his haste to get to Sam, he hadn't noticed. Hastily ripping the offending objects away, he got up again and rushed to Sam's side to shake him violently to wake him up.

Unfortunately, he'd forgotten another thing: his injuries.

As soon as he reached Sam's bed, his legs bucked. Grabbing the edge of the bed just in time to keep his balance and keep from falling, Dean cursed at his own weary body and the motel room with its ill placed objects.

"Deeeean! Noooo!" Sam screamed again.

"What did I do now?" Dean mumbled to himself. Pretty sure he's not thinking about when I froze his computer surfing for porn. Sam suddenly whimpered, curling in to a ball away from Dean. "Sam?" Dean asked softly.

When Sam was silent and still, he tried again. "Sammy? You okay?"

Sam slowly shifted again, this time spreading himself flat on the bed. "Dean?" he asked, eyes blurry and unfocused.

Dean was sure that he was still half asleep. Dean took a dubious step back, away from Sam. When he got like this, there was no telling what he would do and Dean's battered body wasn't ready to be attacked again in the same day.

"Dean, you're dead," Sam stated, looking at Dean confusedly. Dean looked down at himself.

"No, pretty sure I'm still alive, sorry." When Sam didn't return with a smartass remark about how Dean didn't look good enough to be alive, Dean began to become more worried.

"Sammy, you awake?" Dean asked gently. He eased himself down onto Sam's bed.

"Mmm… dunno," Sam replied vaguely, his bleary eyes looking through Dean. Dean rolled his eyes and swung his legs onto the bed slowly. It looked like he would have to spend the night with Sam. Which was wrong on so many levels… but then again, this was just his brother and how many times had Dean comforted Sammy – no, Sam, Dean corrected himself, through the long nights?

As soon as he got himself settled into Sam's bed beside him and his arms encircling his brother, he felt a familiar sensation creep into his chest and seem to push on it in a reassuring way. It was unexplainable to anybody, even himself, but it was a comfortable feeling.

Sam squirmed for a moment and Dean was again reminded of a very large puppy. But Sam was too hard and bony and didn't have soft velvety fur to cushion his jostling movements on Dean's sore body. Each time Sam touched him, Dean felt like a game of Operation with him the dude being operated on and Sam the clumsy little kid who kept touching the edges and making the red light go off.

Sam finally settled with his over long dark chestnut hair splaying everywhere over Dean and once again tickling Dean's nose. Dean swept it away from his nose and mouth. It had him thinking that Sam always felt really clean which was pretty weird. Dean chalked it up to the late hour and weariness.

He was distracted from his thoughts when Sam stirred again but this time more sleepily and contented. Sam finally found his position of comfort lying half off and half on Dean and diagonally across the bed with his long sweatpant clad legs falling precariously off the side of the bed.

Surveying his brother's sleeping position, Dean just shook his head. He moved one of Sam's muscular arms that had come to rest on his chest and was in the danger of bopping him in the nose if Sam shifted again during the night which was very likely.

Finally, finally, at 1:15 according to the red LED numbers of the clock radio, Dean felt himself drifting off to a peaceful slumber.

Sam's limbs were still splayed all over the bed and Dean had done his best to keep his "little" brother's 6' 4" frame mostly resting on top of the tiny Queen sized motel bed that was not meant for two over-six-foot individuals. Sam's breathing was easy and deep, bordering on snores.

Finally, Dean could fall asleep now that Sam was situated and at ease in the presence of big brother. Bad dreams or visions, beware!

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Please tell me what you think!! 


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